


Not The End

by obiwan824



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Airplanes, M/M, Modern AU, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 04:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12763257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obiwan824/pseuds/obiwan824
Summary: Fedya Dolokhov is an important business man with important business-like things to do. He doesn’t have time for a delayed flight.But he might have time for Anatole Kuragin.





	Not The End

“You have got to be kidding me,” Fedya growled. He felt his eyes narrow, clutching his suitcase so tightly his knuckles turned white. “I’ve been waiting five goddamn hours- long drive, security was bullshit, and you’re telling me the flight was delayed?”  
“Sir,” the nervous attendant began, but Dolokhov shook his head. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, breathing deeply.  
“Sorry. It’s not your fault-” he sighed. “Any idea when the flight will be?”  
The attendant shuffled through some papers and bit their lip. “Um- 2:00 AM?”’  
Dolokhov’s eyes widened, he resisted the urge to punch something- the most probable ‘something’ being the poor worker- and, clenching his teeth, nodded. Without saying a word, he strode over to the nearest gate. It was almost 10 o’clock at night- he had his phone, charger, and a good book in his backpack, he could handle this. He pushed away the anxiety, considering he had a meeting across the country at 7 in the morning, and scoured the gate for an open seat.   
It seemed as though every seat was taken. He let out a tiny curse and started walking through the aisles, lugging suitcase behind him. It had a squeaky wheel, one that would hit little bumps in the carpet, emitting a horrible scream. Heads turned to glare at him as he made his way through, scanning for anything, apologizing for the awful sound.  
“There’s an open seat here!” a kind voice spoke up, energetic and full of life. Fedya lifted his head, too exhausted and annoyed to really focus on the speaker. He nodded, managing a thin smile, and walked over to whoever had spoken, plopping down in the only open seat- on one side of him was the aisle, on the other was the mystery speaker.   
“Your flight delayed, too?” the voice asked. Fedya winced at the sound, not wanting to start a pleasantly fake conversation now. All he wanted was to curl up with his novel and read, get lost in the yellowing pages, read until he could forget about meetings and anxiety and delayed flights, until the airport melted around him. In a loveless life of meetings, work, and constant stress, reading was the only thing that kept Fedya sane.   
Still, he nodded, turning to look at the speaker through half-lidded, tired eyes. When he took in a beautiful blond, smiling wide and with bright blue eyes, sparkling with mischief, his eyes widened.   
“Yeah, happens a lot on this airline,” the blond sang. “I always say to myself before I book another flight, ‘it’s gonna be worth it for the cheap prices’- but every time, sitting here with a 2:00 AM flight, I have to consider whether it was worth it.  
Fedya grinned, becoming flustered around the man, who was so casual, so alive, so at ease with everyone, able to call to a stranger from across a busy room. Fedya became slightly more relaxed, leaning back in his chair and setting his carry-on down, as he spoke to him. “Heh. Yeah, I agree. Though,” he paused and fluttered his eyelashes. He figured if he couldn’t get to work on time, he could try and woo the pretty boy. “It might be worth it just to meet lovely men like you.”  
The blond quirked an eyebrow, flushing pink. “Aw, you’re too kind! My name’s Anatole Kuragin.”  
“Fedya Dolokhov.”   
The two men fell into an easy conversation. Fedya was surprised by how wonderful and simple it was to open up around the boy, he had never found such joy in talking to one person. All thoughts of his novel slipped out of his head as he gazed into the bright blue eyes.  
And then, as evening slipped into late night back into morning, the conversation came to a still. A pleasant, warm silence took over. Anatole played a game on his phone and Fedya took out his book, not finding the same comfort in it that he usually did, not after his talks with Anatole.   
As the time of the flight approached, Fedya, engrossed in his novel, felt a sudden heavy weight on his shoulder. He looked down and smiled when he found Anatole Kuragin’s sleeping head resting on him. Dolokhov took Anatole’s phone out of his hand where it rested by his knees and slipped it into Anatole’s bag where he could find it in the morning, smoothed back his hair, and kissed his forehead lightly, finding a new affection for the boy he had never felt before, a little fluttering in his heart, before turning back to the words on the page, ink that now swirled around in a little blur as his eyelids drooped.  
A half an hour later Dolokhov jolted awake, feeling sleepy, disgruntled, and his mind a blur. He shot up, grabbed his phone, and let out a groan. 2:10. The flight had already begun boarding, perhaps it had taken off. He shoved the book and phone into his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and took the handle of the suitcase, ignoring the squeaky wheel as he began to run towards the gate.  
A sudden thought intruded his fuzzy mind- Anatole. He stopped dead in his tracks, much to his suitcase’s protests, and turned to look at the blond. Unknowing, still fast asleep. Fedya knew if he went and woke up Anatole, he could very likely miss his flight. But how would Anatole feel, waking up alone, with the flight taken off, knowing his new companion had left him behind? Still, this meeting was important…  
But as he looked at Anatole, he could hardly leave him behind. “Damn you,” he muttered. He ran back, shaking the boy awake as gently as he could. The blond bolted upright, eyes wide.   
“Huh?”  
“Come on!” Fedya exclaimed, pulling the boy to his feet. He took Anatole’s backpack and put it on himself over his own pack and intertwined their fingers with his free hand. Clutching his suitcase with one hand and Anatole’s with his other, he pulled the boy along until they reached the gate. A confused Anatole could only giggle, sorting through the fog sleep had left on his mind.   
Fedya pulled up to the gate sweating and panting, slapping his ticket on the table. The same attendant from before smiled, scanned his ticket.   
“You just made it,” they said kindly. Fedya let out a sigh of relief, stopping and waiting as Anatole scrambled to find his ticket and got it scanned. He took his pack from Fedya, letting out a quiet thanks, and took the man’s hand again. Dolokhov blushed and smiled, pulling his new companion along.   
There were few seats left on the airplane. Fedya searched carefully, finding them 2 empty seats in the middle. He sat in the middle seat, giving Anatole the aisle, and ignoring the woman who sat in the window seat, reading a magazine.   
Anatole squeezed Dolokhov’s hand as they got situated. “Thank you. Um, I could have missed the flight if you hadn’t come back for me. So- thanks.”  
Fedya smiled, squeezed his hand back. “Of course. Anything for you, love.”  
They talked until they could talk no longer and Anatole fell asleep, drifting off right before his companion’s eyes, resting his head on Fedya’s shoulder again. Dolokhov pulled the blond closer than before and cuddled him until he, too, fell asleep.  
When they woke up again, the plane was landing. Anatole enjoyed a few moments alone in the silence, except for the occasional bing from the airplane or quiet conversation the other passengers made, curling up to Fedya, until the man awoke.   
They got off hand-in-hand, making it all the way to the baggage claim, where Anatole’s many suitcases were, before they separated. Anatole looked up at Fedya with sad eyes.  
“Can I see you again, Fedya? Where’re you headed?”  
“The city,” Dolokhov replied, and Anatole sagged, frowning. “But- we’ll see each other again, yes? This isn’t the end!”  
Anatole tried to brighten up. He, without a word, took Fedya’s phone and typed in his number, doing the same to his own phone. He added himself as a contact in Dolokhov’s phone, titling it ‘Love ❤️’ with a giggle, and finally handed the phone back.   
As Fedya turned, with one last smile, to head out to his meeting, Anatole captured his wrist and twirled him back, pressing their chests together. He stood up on his tiptoes and caught Fedya’s lips with his own, holding Fedya around the neck loosely and blushing.   
“This isn’t the end,” Anatole repeated, and Fedya, flustered and giving him a dopey grin, nodded.   
“This isn’t the end.”


End file.
